


it slips between my fingers now

by Lise



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death Fix, Fix-It, Gen, Ghosts, Loki (Marvel) Lives, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Thor (Marvel), Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Canon Fix-It, a very sad Thor, this is self-indulgent as heck and I don't care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 06:46:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19388674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: After Thanos is defeated, Thor goes (flees) into space with the Guardians of the Galaxy. It's going...fine.Until he starts seeing his brother's ghost.





	it slips between my fingers now

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like other people have written this fic, but you know what, there can always be more Endgame fix-it fic in the world, so you know what, fuck it. This was another idea courtesy of professional idea factory [Lena](http://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com), who gives me plot bunnies to work on so I can avoid working on other stuff. Thank you, friend.
> 
> This was originally posted on my Tumblr back in May. If you want to see things like this that I post there and then forget to cross-post for a month and a half (or more), you may find it worth following me [over there](http://veliseraptor.tumblr.com), where I also talk a lot about my life, writing, and (currently) Good Omens. 
> 
> Enjoy.

Thor had been with the Guardians for maybe a week when he first caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye. When he turned his head, though, there was nothing there. 

Of course there wasn’t. Whatever else he was (and Thor could think of a number of things he could call himself), he wasn’t mad - at least not yet. So it was impossible that he might have seen his brother.

Because Loki was dead. And the piece of Thor’s heart that whispered _you thought he was before -_ that piece was poison, a deadly hope that could kill (and stubbornly refused to entirely die). 

So no - he had not seen Loki. A trick of the light. His brother was far from here, at peace in Valhalla, along with Frigga, and Odin, and the Warriors Three, and Heimdall, and probably Sif as well. All gone, and he remained.

A fist clenched around Thor’s heart and he went to raid the hold for drink. 

* * *

On an unnamed planet in the Thaumis system, cleaning Stormbreaker of the blood of the creature he’d just helped slay, Thor saw him again.

He froze, and this time he was certain, or nearly: it was Loki, or a shade of him, translucent as mist. He looked just as he had in the moments of his death, frozen in time as he was in Thor’s memory. Bruises ringing his throat, hair disheveled.

A cry burst from Thor’s lips, and as though the sound drove him away Loki vanished into nothingness.

“What, did you chop one of your toes off with that thing?” Rocket asked. Thor shook his head. 

“No,” he said. “That isn’t…” He swallowed hard. _My brother. I saw my brother’s ghost._

Half Rocket’s comrades already thought Thor was a little mad. He did not need to prove them right. He might have imagined it. ( _You didn’t._ ) Conjured Loki from thin air out of wishful thinking. ( _When you try to avoid thinking too much of him at all._ )

“It’s nothing,” Thor said, calling up a smile. Rocket eyed him dubiously, but didn’t question him. That was one of the things Thor appreciated about his new comrades: for the most part, they didn’t question. Did not want to ask probing questions about Thor’s _thoughts_ and _feelings._

There was too much, and if he spoke it it would drown him. 

“Okay,” Rocket said. “Sure. Sometimes you just gotta yell for no reason.”

“Yes,” Thor said. “Exactly.” 

* * *

In the dark, lying awake in his bunk, Thor tried to recall everything he knew about ghost-lore.

It wasn’t much. It had hardly been an area of study for him - he’d found the very idea unnerving, and Loki’s pranks at his expense–

Thor cut himself off and redirected his thoughts before he could sink in them. Ghosts, or shades, were rare. There were the undead, like the soldiers Hela had raised, but a true spirit was something else, less common, that resulted only from specific circumstances. 

But what were those circumstances? Improper burial rites, Thor thought he remembered. Some unfinished business tethering a soul from taking its proper place in the afterlife. 

Loki had not had any burial. And unfinished business? _He -_ Loki’s murderer - was dead. What else…

_You. You let him die. You let them all die._

For a moment Thor could not breathe. He had to focus, hard, to make his lungs inflate again, and then again, and again. 

Was it possible? Was he being haunted?

Was his failure keeping Loki from Valhalla?

He was cold. Thor wrapped the blankets tighter around himself and bit the inside of his cheek. Let it not be so. Let it be something else, anything else, let it be creeping madness, but let this one thing _not be his fault._

When he fell asleep, eventually, Thor dreamed he was floating amidst the shattered remains of the Statesman, Loki’s body just out of reach. His eyes snapped open and he said in a voice like death, “why did you leave me, Thor?”

Thor woke with tears on his face.

* * *

The next time Thor was alone, he tried to call him. “Loki,” he said, “show yourself.” 

He did not. Did not appear to explain to Thor what he wanted, did not tell him what he needed to do. Of course he didn’t. Loki had never done what he was told. Why should his shade be any different?

Thor wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or laugh. 

Instead, later, when Thor was in the middle of attempting to explain why visiting Muspellheim was a bad idea, there Loki was, standing in the cockpit with his back to Thor, and his voice choked off in the middle of a sentence. 

“I don’t understand,” Drax said.

Thor didn’t dare blink, or look away. He seemed clearer this time, more solid and the only word Thor could force out of his throat was, “look.” 

The Guardians turned, looked, and then turned back to Thor, to a one with expressions of total incomprehension. 

“Look at what?” Peter asked.

“Don’t you see…” Loki’s head turned, and then he did. His eyes looked through Thor, blank and lifeless.

“Are you seeing things that aren’t there?” Mantis asked politely. “That isn’t a good thing.” 

_He is there,_ Thor wanted to say. _He’s right there, right in front of me,_ but he couldn’t speak and couldn’t move and Loki didn’t seem to be seeing him at all.

Then Loki’s eyes moved, locked on Thor’s, and widened. His lips parted like he was about to speak. 

Drax stepped into his line of sight and said, “I don’t see anything,” and Loki was gone.

For a split second Thor could have struck off Drax’s head. The fury evaporated quickly, leaving a hollow in its place.

“What just happened,” Rocket asked.

Thor turned and walked away without answering. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

What had Loki been about to say? What words were so urgent that they bound his brother here? He feared them. He needed to hear them.

“Loki,” Thor whispered. “Can you hear me?” 

No answer. Maybe he really was going mad.

* * *

“ _Thor._ ”

A voice that reached down through his dreams, drawing him up out of alcohol-soaked slumber. It was little more than a whisper, but he answered its call instinctively, and for a moment he hung between sleeping and waking where he almost believed that the last five years had been some terrible dream.

Then he woke entirely, and remembered. 

Loki was standing by his bed, looking down at him. Thor stared back, barely breathing, not daring to move. Something built in his throat and exploded out of him, an inarticulate sound, and he reached out but stopped himself before he could feel that there was nothing there to touch.

“Loki,” Thor said, his voice choked, and the next words, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry–”

Loki blinked at him, eyebrows knitting with confusion as they might have in life, and if it weren’t for the translucence of his body, the fuzziness around his edges, he might have been. Thor could almost pretend that it was one of Loki’s projections, the early attempts.

“For what?” Loki said.

“You-” Thor could not say _died._ “I didn’t save you.” 

Loki just stared at him. “You couldn’t,” he said. Simply, sensibly, and it _wasn’t good enough._ Thor had dreaded his brother’s rage, a ghost’s need for vengeance, haunting Thor for redress of his wrongs. But it was worse to be so easily released. 

_I should have. I should have been able to. If I were everything I am supposed to be…_

“How can I set you free?” Thor asked. Loki looked blank, and he said, “you are trapped here, when you should...you should be at peace in Valhalla.” 

(Some hideously selfish part of him said _don’t go. Stay. Stay with me._ )

“I,” Loki started to say, and broke off at a sharp knock on the door.

“Who are you talking to?” said Nebula’s harsh voice, and Thor almost snarled. Loki was gone again.

He stalked over and yanked the door open. “What do you want,” he snapped. 

“I heard you talking,” Nebula said. Her gaze was direct and apparently without emotion. “ _Are_ you losing your mind?” 

“I wouldn’t know if I was, would I,” Thor said harshly. “I was _busy._ ”

Nebula shifted slightly. She seemed, Thor thought, uncomfortable. “Look,” she said. “If you ever want to, I don’t know, _talk..._ Mantis is actually a decent listener.” 

Thor sighed. It wasn’t her fault. Wasn’t anyone’s fault. (Except his.) “Thank you,” he said, what he hoped sounded like it was sincere. She shrugged.

“If you’re going to talk to yourself, just do it a little quieter,” she said. “I can keep my mouth shut, but no one else on this ship can.” She walked away before he could answer, and Thor retreated. Loki didn’t reappear, though. Thor stayed up the whole night, just in case, but he never came back.

* * *

“All right,” Rocket said, plopping himself down across from Thor and stealing the rest of his drink. “If no one else is going to ask...spill.”

“Give that back,” Thor said, gesturing at his flask. Rocket drained it and then tossed it back in his direction.

“Come on,” he said. “You’re dragging the mood down. Get it out of your system and stop moping.” 

Thor’s jaw tightened, then relaxed. _Hel with it._ “I’ve started seeing my brother’s ghost.”

“Your dead brother,” Rocket said. “The one Thanos-” Thor twitched, but Rocket didn’t react. “-killed five years ago. That one?” 

“Yes,” Thor said.

“And you’re seeing his, uh, ghost.” 

“Yes,” Thor said. Rocket just stared at him. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Okay. Sounds reasonable. Not crazy at all. Does that happen a lot where you’re from?”

“Not often,” Thor said. “But it does happen. The restless dead have been known to linger.” 

“Seems like maybe he’s a little late,” Rocket said. Thor gave him a sharp look, and he held up his hands. “Just saying.” 

Thor faltered. “I wasn’t exactly…” He paused, and said carefully, “I wasn’t paying much attention to my surroundings.” And that was a thought that struck him like a blow. That Loki might have been there all along, and Thor hadn’t seen him, hadn’t known.

“You know you’re kind of fucked,” Rocket said. “In the head. Right?” 

“I am not _seeing things,_ ” Thor said loudly. “I spoke to him, and he answered me. He is real. My brother - Loki-”

There was an odd look on Rocket’s face. “That was his name, huh?” Thor glanced at him, and he shrugged. “You’ve never actually said it before.” 

“Oh,” Thor said after a moment. “Hm.” 

They were both quiet. Finally, Rocket shrugged. “Okay,” he said. “So you’re seeing your brother’s ghost. How come no one else has?” 

“I don’t know,” Thor said. “Maybe because he’s _my_ brother. Maybe he’s not strong enough.” 

“Or maybe,” Rocket said, “ghosts aren’t real and you’ve got a bad case of wishful thinking.” 

Thor’s temper surged and for a moment he almost lashed out. He shoved back and stood instead. “You asked what I was thinking, and I told you,” he said. “You don’t have to believe me. But don’t mock me.”

He didn’t wait to hear any response. His heart beat in his stomach, but a part of him wondered if he wasn’t angry because of the possibility that Rocket might be right, and he’d somehow wished a shade of Loki into existence out of desperation.

* * *

Loki appeared to him again in the middle of the night when Thor was drinking instead of sleeping. He sat down, or seemed to, and said, “you don’t look well.”

Thor didn’t look at him. “Don’t attempt to appeal to my vanity. I haven’t any left.” 

“I’m not,” Loki said. “Only…” He almost heard him sigh. “You left Asgard.”

“What’s left of it,” Thor said. “Valkyrie is in charge.” 

“That’s a terrible idea,” Loki said.

“She’s better at it than you’d think.” Thor set down his drink and raised his eyes to look at Loki. “Are you real?” Loki’s brow furrowed in that too familiar expression and Thor’s eyes burned. “I mean - am I imagining you because I want so badly for you to be here?”

Loki seemed to think about that. “Would I know?” he asked. 

“What do you remember?” Thor asked. Desperate. For a moment, Loki seemed to flicker, then solidify again. He seemed stronger now, Thor thought. Like glass instead of mist, though as likely to shatter. 

“I died,” Loki said. “I remember that.” 

Loki struggling, clawing at Thanos’s arms, gasping out his last words and then that horrible _crack,_ his body going limp. Thor took a shuddering breath in and downed the rest of his mug. “And then…?”

Loki’s hands twisted together. Another gesture so familiar from life, from their mother, a tell of unease and discomfort. “I was in Valhalla, I think,” Loki said. “It’s not...clear. But then I wasn’t.”

“Why?” Thor asked. “Why did you leave?” 

“I don’t know.” Loki looked lost. He wrapped his arms around himself. 

“Is it me?” Thor asked. His eyes prickled. “Is it because of me that you can’t rest?” 

“Why would it be because of you?” Loki asked. “I just know that I’m cold, now. I remember sun and light but now it’s just...the cold. And you.” 

Thor felt a pang. So Loki had been at peace, and now...and now he wasn’t, drawn back it sounded like against his will, suffering…

Pulled out of Valhalla - back to the land of the living. Cold - like the depths of space. 

A spark bloomed in Thor’s belly and his breath caught. Bruce had tried, he remembered, to bring back Natasha, and said he had failed. What if he’d been wrong? 

What if he’d been wrong, and Natasha wasn’t the only one he’d brought back, only...only they had stayed just where they’d fallen?

“Loki,” Thor said, and he could hear the vibration in his voice, knew he was treading on dangerous ground, ice that if it cracked would plunge him into black depths from which he might not surface. “Do you know...can you see anything?” 

“You,” Loki said. Thor shook his head. 

“Anything _else._ ”

“No?” Loki was giving him an odd look, but Thor’s heart was pounding, and he ran for the cockpit. 

“Do you have the coordinates for where you found me,” Thor asked. 

“What?” Quill said.

“I _said,_ do you have the coordinates for where you found me,” Thor repeated. 

“I...might, I guess,” Quill said. “Course, that was _five years_ ago. Why the fuck do you want to go there?”

“Because I think Banner might have been wrong,” Thor said. “I think maybe...I think maybe he brought them back after all.” 

Nebula jerked. “Brought _who_ back?” she asked. 

Thor took a deep and unsteady breath, his eyes fixed on the stars in front of him. “My brother,” he said. “At least. And maybe...maybe not just him.”

There was a profound silence. 

“All right,” Rocket said. “I’ll say it. You’ve officially lost _your fucking mind._ ”

* * *

Thor dug in his heels. He argued. He pleaded. He stopped _just_ short of threatening, though only just. Finally Nebula said, “either humor him or knock him out, I’m sick of listening to this,” and Quill threw up his hands.

“Fine!” he said. “Fine, we’ll go check it out. I hope you’re happy.”

Thor didn’t respond, his eyes fixed forward. He was thinking of how Loki’s ghost had been growing more and more solid. Closer to death? Even a Jotun could not live forever in the cold depths of space, without air, or sustenance. 

Would Heimdall be there as well? The other Asgardians? 

Had Bruce brought Natasha back after all?

Too many questions. At the moment his focus was narrowed to one: finding Loki and bringing him back. 

“What are you doing?” Loki asked.

“Saving you,” Thor said. As he should have before. But at least now...perhaps now he could redress at least this one thing. “Hold on,” he whispered. “I am coming.” 

* * *

Thor had expected the wreckage of the Statesman, but of course it was gone. Dispersed, drifted apart, and Thor’s heart plunged into his stomach. The bodies were gone, too; of course they had not simply stayed in place all this time. 

Which meant he still had no idea where Loki was. How far his body might have drifted after five years.

“Okay,” Rocket said. “So...what now?”

“He’s here,” Thor said. “He has to be here...somewhere.” He scanned the stars as though he might see him. “Search for anything living,” he said, and could hear the desperation in his own voice. 

“Thor,” Peter said, and he almost sounded kind, “there’s nothing out there.” 

His chest tightened. The now familiar onset of panic, and he tried to force himself to calm. “No,” he said. “I am _sure..._ look again.”

“Buddy,” Rocket said. Thor banged his fist against the side of the ship.

“I _said–_ ”

“Watch it,” Nebula growled. Thor glared at her, and she looked back at him, her jaw tight. 

Something went out of Thor. The ice cracking under his feet. 

He turned and walked away before he could break down in front of any of them. His eyes burned, and he found a quiet corner and collapsed into it, burying his face into his hands. 

Loki was _here._ Somewhere. Thor was sure of it. And yet...space was enormous, and he didn’t know how much time they had before Loki died again. Thor failed him, again. 

He almost heard the whisper of air as someone sat down next to him, and knew without looking that he was no longer alone.

“Thor,” said Loki’s voice. “It’s all right.” 

“No,” Thor said, raw and hoarse. “It isn’t.”

“I’m not in pain,” Loki said. “Only...a little cold.” 

Thor shook his head, his throat closing. “Don’t,” he said. “Don’t try to make me _feel better._ It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that you died, and it isn’t fair that everyone else…” He swallowed hard. “If you could just tell me where you are. You shouldn’t have to...I was going to _save_ you.”

Loki had a small, strange smile. “It’s good of you to try,” he said. “But I’m not certain I’m alive at all.” 

Thor shook his head. “ _I_ know it,” he said desperately. “Why would you be here, otherwise? Why would you not be in Valhalla anymore? Why appear to me?”

“Bad luck?” Loki said. He sounded so clear. So _real._ The sound Thor made was akin to a sob. 

“ _Loki,_ ” he said, and stopped. He didn’t know what to say, other than that, and fell silent. They were both quiet. How long, Thor wondered, did he have? How long before Loki was gone again, and this brief glimpse of what it was to have him ripped away?

“How did you find me?” he asked. Loki shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I was alone, and cold, but I reached out and you were there.” 

“Reached out,” Thor said. “With what?” 

Another shrug. “I don’t know that either,” he said. “With...whatever it is that binds us together, I suppose.”

“Could I…” Thor trailed off. “Could I do it? Reach back, and...and find you?”

Loki blinked, and was quiet. Thor reached for his hands, but his fingers went through. 

“Tell me how,” he said, soft and frantic. Loki shook his head, mute, and Thor said, “ _please,_ ” with all the desperation in him, all the grief and pain and need, and Loki flinched back like Thor had struck him. 

“I don’t know _how,_ ” he said. 

Thor squeezed his eyes closed. He tried to imagine Loki: his face, his voice, the gestures of his hands. The sound of his laugh. His knives in Thor’s side, the force of his rage. The feel of him in Thor’s arms. The texture of his scales when he was a snake, or foxfur, or feathers. Trying to hold everything that was _Loki_ in his mind, his heart aching.

He imagined on the Bifrost, as he had a thousand times, reaching for Loki’s hand and grasping his wrist. 

For just a moment, his awareness doubled. He was sitting on the ship, and he was drifting, frozen, heartbeat slowed almost to stillness. Thor sucked a breath into his lungs and he was only himself again, but he still felt it, a tug in his chest like there was a string wrapped around his heart.

He lurched to his feet and strode back to the bridge. “That way,” he said, without preamble, pointing. 

“Um,” Peter said. 

“I’m certain,” Thor said. “Go that way. Not too quickly.”

Silence met him. 

“Go,” Nebula said, finally. Peter muttered something under his breath, but he went. Thor held very still, barely breathing, all his attention dedicated to that string pulling him onward, onward–

“There,” he breathed, because he could see it, just see it, one body in all the dark. “ _There._ ” His heart was pounding in his ears, fear and hope warring in his chest, and he did not dare move, as if to move would break him. 

* * *

They brought him aboard. Brought Loki’s body aboard, and placed him on a table like it was a bier.

Thor drew close, slowly, and looked down at Loki’s face. There was ice rime on his eyelashes, his skin Jotun blue and Thor had never seen him like this before but he could scarcely even care. Just as on his ghost, the bruises lingered, a deeper purple on blue skin. He looked dead. 

_No,_ Thor thought. _No. Don’t you dare. Not when we’re so close._

“Mantis,” he said. “Do you know...can you tell…”

She moved closer, tentatively, and reached out to lay fingers against Loki’s temples. Her antennae glowed softly, and Thor held his breath.

“He is alive,” she said, and Thor heard himself make a soft noise. “But sleeping very deeply.”

“Wake him,” Thor said, and remembered to add belatedly, “please.”

“I’ll try,” Mantis said. She sounded uncertain, but closed her eyes, brow furrowing in deep concentration. 

Loki’s chest rose. Movement flickered briefly under his eyelids. Thor leaned forward, barely breathing himself. 

His fingers twitched, and heaved in a ragged breath.

Red, red eyes opened. 

The sound Thor made was weak and wretched, what another version of himself might have called pathetic. He didn’t care. He lunged for Loki, seized him and pulled him into a hug, not caring if the cold burned him, not caring about anything but this, this gift, the universe at last giving him something back after all it had taken away. 

He could not speak. 

“Thor,” Loki said, almost a wheeze, and Thor loosened his hold, pulling back just enough that he could see Loki’s face, drink in the familiarity under the unfamiliarity. Loki looked at him, clearly dazed still, blinking out of whatever hibernation might have saved him. Thor could not tell if he was laughing or crying; perhaps both. 

Loki blinked at him twice. “Thor,” he said again. “Where did you get a new eye?”

Thor grabbed him again, not answering. The string around his heart thrummed, and he didn’t think he would ever let go again.


End file.
